Guldas' voice is tremulous, his manner hesitant. The grizzled old sailor swallows as he reads the damage from a scrawled list. "It's bad sir...The foremast, she's clean shorn off sir, and the sterncastle, she broked and sank behind us, plus the prow, well, you seen what shape that's in your own self, with the figurehead gone, sir." He looks up from his reading for a reaction from his Captain.
Draco listens, with seeming patience, frowning. Seated before Guldas, the bloated Captain sets his hands on the jewel on the end of his big moonwood walking stick.
Guldas continues, "The rigging's a rat's nest now, what's left of her. We lost us ten scorpions and no spares t'repair 'em, sir, plus the hold was blasted clean open and ten kegs o'brandy and a week's hardtack went inta the drink." He looks up from his list. He adds, almost as an afterthought, "Oh, and four and twenty men slain, into the bargain." He blinks. "Sir."
Draco puts his hand to his beard. He bares his big teeth. Then he laughs, looking from one of his men to the other, a big belly laugh of sheer mirth.
The other officers laugh, nervously at first, then loudly, joining in.
Masryn, the Tol Nedran sorcerer, snorts, his thin-lipped face curled in a sneer.
The warrior Kugg laughs, a booming Urag chortle that sounds like rocks falling downhill.
Guldas looks sidelong at the others, hesitating, and, finally, he joins in too, laughing.
Soon the entire company of ship's officers on the quarterdeck of the Firewing merrily laughs along with their Captain.
With blinding speed, Draco's walking stick lashes out and buffets Guldas' cheek. The big Captain is out of his seat in a moment. Draco's eyes, huge already, now bulge from his head. He is in a fine fury, flecks of spittle flying from his lips. Guldas shrieks in shock and terror, falling back under the assault, holding his hands up in vain to defend himself.
Draco roars, "Oh, what a merry jape! A jest! My precious vessel nearly sunk, and the Reckoning clean away, and you think it amusing!" Another blow, and his stick lays open Guldas' forehead, blood gouting down the man's face. "Tell me more! Another joke, Guldas! Perhaps the one about the one-armed Urag and the lady from Mazirin!" Another blow lands on Guldas' nose, shattering it. "I know--a priest of Ardis, a priest of Vannimar and a priest of--Inglorian walk--into--a tavern! Ha! Ha!" Draco lands more blows with the moonwood staff, and Guldas topples under the onslaught. "Ha!"
Draco adds a savage head kick for good measure and then rounds on his men, breathing heavily, big hands clenched into fists. Even Kugg recoils from Draco in his fury.
Into the sudden silence, Draco says, panting breathlessly, "You know, they say you should never make a decision when you're angry. Principle of good leadership and all that, hey lads?" He throws his head back and laughs once more, his booming voice ringing out across the deck. This time, his men don't join in. "There! Happy now! What a glorious day this is! Glorious!"
He grins mirthlessly at his officers. "We're going to fix up, lads, and then we're going to find them, and then we're going to settle this once and for all. The Reckoning is going to the bottom, and that boy Rhyll will dance at the end of a plank!" He bellows, "Find them!"